Somewhere in the Between
by Havah Kinny
Summary: At 16, not only is Max's family life is a wreck but seizures and raging headaches keep landing him in the hospital. Confused and scared that he's going crazy, Max tries to pull his life together, but finds that he may not be able to do it alone.
1. Nothing Once Again

_**A/N Warning – this IS movie-verse. I am a big fan of the book, but it didn't really instill the fanfiction vibe that the movie did.**_

Max let out a deep breath, along with a puff of smoke, as he leaned against the wall of the baseball dugout. The smoke from the cigarette in his hands mixed with the steam from his breath as he closed his eyes. It was a cold, November day, and he could feel that it was about to snow, no matter how much he wished himself to be wrong. The sixteen year old took another long draw from his cigarette, finishing it off.

A sigh escaped the teenager's lips as he dropped the cigarette to the ground, stamping it out with the toe of his black converse shoe. Max pulled his black sweatshirt around him tightly as a cold wind blew over him. He had skipped Chemistry and now he had to wait until his class was over before going back into the school so as not to draw attention to himself and the fact that he had been absent without leave.

He reached into the pocket of his baggy jeans, pulling out his phone to check the time. Four more minutes. Not enough time for another cigarette, but too long to be comfortable standing in the cold. He pulled his lighter and cigarettes from his sweatshirt, deciding to smoke half of a cigarette, maybe more, and then stamp it out incomplete. Just as he was lighting it, however, someone stopped him.

"Mr. Cordon." Mrs. Ellis, the gym teacher, rounded the corner, glaring at Max. "I think you had best come with me."

"Shit." Max sighed, stamping the cigarette out.

"Shit is right, Mr. Cordon." Mrs. Ellis frowned, tapping her foot. "Come along now – this century!" The woman glared at Max and the teenager reluctantly followed. He was moving slowly, having slept badly last night, the same nightmares that had plagued him as a child having recently returned, making his already ambiguous life more confusing.

That morning, around three, Max had awoken from a dream in which Judith had come to his high school and kidnapped him, declaring that Carol would not calm down until their 'king' returned. Of course, Max had come to terms with the fact that the wild things, which he had believed to be so real when he was a child, were just part of a long, realistic nightmare, but they still clouded over his dreams, sometimes as friends, others as foes.

"Mr. Cordon, what is it this time?" The principal's secretary rolled her eyes as she saw Mrs. Ellis walk in, Max in tow.

"He was skipping class – smoking behind the dugout." Mrs. Ellis looked furious.

"Alright." The secretary sighed. "Max, you know what to do."

"Sure." Max nodded, taking a seat, waiting while the secretary called his mother. He pushed his brown hair from his green eyes as he tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair.

Twenty minutes later, his mother walked through the door. "Max, what was it this time?" She approached her son.

"Nothing," Max muttered.

"Skipping class, smoking, the usual." The secretary shrugged. "He's suspended."

"How long?" Max's mother sighed, used to this sort of thing happening by now.

"Until Monday – but Ms. Cordon, the next time this happens, he's out. This is the third time this year, one more and he's out."

"Thank you." Max's mother sighed as she grabbed Max's arm, pulling him out of the door. "Max, what is your plan, exactly?" She frowned at her son as they reached the car. "This is the only high school in this town, public, at least, and none of the private schools are going to take you if you get expelled. If you get kicked out, Max, you'll have to go to the military academy."

"I know," Max muttered, getting into the passenger's seat.

"Max, this isn't something that we can just tiptoe around! With Claire away at college, I had hoped that you would see things a little more clearly, but you're just as bad as you were – worse, even. I just don't understand what's wrong with you, Max." She sighed. "You used to be such a good kid – at least most of the time, now I'm lucky if I can get a full sentence out of you! Hell, I spend more time talking to your principal than I do talking to you."

Max didn't respond. He simply slumped against the chair as his mother rambled on and on about what a disaster he was. He hated the way that she talked about him, but he couldn't argue it, because he knew that she was right. He was a difficult teen, he knew that he caused more trouble than he was worth sometimes, but he didn't care, and that almost made him feel guilty. Almost.

"Max, hand it over." Max's mother sighed as they both got out of the car upon reaching the house.

"What?" Max looked over at his mother, raising an eyebrow as he slung one strap of his backpack over his shoulder.

"Lighter, cigarettes, hand them over." She held her hand out, palm up.

"Fine." Max rolled his eyes, handing her the lighter and the nearly finished pack of cigarettes.

"All of them." His mother narrowed her eyes.

"FINE!" Max pulled a second back of cigarettes from his pocket and threw them at her.

"You know, I don't even know when you got like this." She sighed, unlocking the door to the house. "We used to be so close."

"Yeah, and it's all my fault that we're not anymore." Max's voice dripped with sarcasm as he entered the house, dropping his pack on the hallway floor.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that maybe if you spent just a little less time with Mr. Right and a little more paying attention to what actually happens in this house, you might have noticed that I started smoking in the seventh grade – but no, it took you until two months ago to realize that I was going through more than pack a day!" Max turned, stomping towards his room.

"What?" Her jaw dropped as her son headed up the stairs, an angry blur of angst-ridden teen. "Max, come back here!"

"NO!" Max slammed the door to his bedroom, flopping down on the bed. He grabbed his headphones, jamming them over his ears and turning on his iPod, closing his eyes as the loud, steady beat of the trumpet mixed with drums, trombone, guitar, bass and whatever else composed ska music filled his ears. At this point, music was the only thing in his life that was easy and he was desperate to keep one thing in his life from getting out of hand.


	2. Screams in the Night

"I just don't know what to do about him – recently he's just been more to handle than I could ever imagine him being. I knew that things would be rough when his father died, but I never imagined that he would be this out of control!"

Max frowned as he leaned up against the wall in the hallway outside of his mother's bedroom. He hated it when his mother talked to her 'new' husband about him – he hated that she spoke to him as though Max was his son, as though he actually had a clue when it came to Max.

"Diane, you're doing everything right." The man put his arm around Max's mother. "He's a difficult child – perhaps you should send him to the Military Academy no matter what – I hate to say this, but I don't like watching you bend over backwards in support of a lost cause. Max clearly needs discipline that we can't give him."

That was about all that Max could take. His stepfather's words made his stomach turn – he was NOT a child, nor was he a lost cause. This man had no right to come into his family and say those things. Max knew that he was grounded until Monday, but he needed a cigarette badly and there was no way that he was going to get his back from his mother. He went into his room, locked the door, and hoisted himself out of the window.

Over the years, Max had become an artist of sneaking out. He hated being stuck in the house at night – listening to his mother and stepfather and until last year, Claire and her friends, her boyfriend, so he had learned to lock his door from the inside, climb out the window, down the drainpipe and to the sidewalk, where he could wander around the neighborhood until he was ready to go home.

The second that Max's feet hit the pavement, he felt a little bit better. IF he wanted to, he could take off, just run away from a family that, once again, held no place for him. Max shoved his hands into his pockets as he began to walk, ignoring the cold air, pretending that he didn't care about the knit cap lying left behind on his dresser. He had, however, brought fingerless gloves with him, though that was because he had forgotten to remove them from his pockets earlier and not that he had remembered to bring them along.

Max slipped the gloves over his hands, pulling his fingers through the tops of the black gloves, which he had cut away himself. The second that his gloves were on, he covered his ears with his headphones, allowing the carefree sounds of Reel Big Fish to take over his world.

The convenience store nearest his house had to be passed up, as they checked the ID of any young person attempting to purchase cigarettes. Normally, this annoyed Max, but that night, he was glad for the extended walk – it gave him more time to just breathe, to drive his stepfather's words from his brain with the pointless words and upbeat sounds of the personal soundtrack that he had spent more time than necessary creating.

"Hey." Max walked up to the counter. He grabbed a cheap, plastic lighter, and tossed it onto the counter before speaking to the bored looking clerk. "I need a pack of cigarettes."

"What kind?" the man asked, standing to get what Max had asked for.

"Just whatever's cheapest." He shrugged. Brand didn't matter to him – just as long as he got what he needed from the item – warmth, nicotine and relaxation, the design on the box couldn't have mattered less.

"Ok then." The clerk threw a pack next to the lighter, ringing up Max's total. The teenager paid and took his purchases, leaving the store immediately, desperate to satiate his needs.

As Max took the first drag on the cigarette, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. He leaned up against the side of the building, his eyes closing as he let the nicotine mix with the ska music still pounding through his headphones – the ultimate cocktail for relaxation. When he was finished, Max stamped the butt of the cigarette out against the side of the building, beginning to walk back towards home as he lit a second. However, Max dropped both cigarette and lighter no more than a block from the store as a stabbing pain shot through his head.

Max let out an anguished cry, stepping on and crushing the cheap lighter as stumbled forwards. He tore off his headphones, gripping his forehead in an attempt to soothe the sharp, sudden ache. The pain refused to subside, and Max found himself falling to his knees, meeting the sidewalk with a hit that seemed mild in pain compared to that which was shooting through his forehead. Seconds later, Max was on the ground entirely, writhing in the pain of the splitting headache.

"Max…" As he squeezed his eyes shut, a voice filled his head. "Max, come back to us! We need you Max!" No sooner than the voice had spoken, images filled his head. Carol was standing on the beach, calling to him. "Max, we need you to come back to us, please!"

"Max!" K.W. joined in. "Max, please! Help us! We need you!"

Max let out a strangled cry as his head continued to feel as though it were about to split in two. Tears that he was unaware of streamed down his cheeks and he pulled his legs tightly to his chest, curling up into a tight ball. He didn't understand what was happening to him.

"Max!" Carol looked outwards with pleading eyes. "We need you! Come back to us, please, Max, we need your help!"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Max managed to shout, the images taking over his mind. "You're not real! YOU'RE NOT FUCKING REAL!"

"Max, how could you say that?" K.W. frowned at him. "Max, we need you! How can you deny us? Please, Max! We can't make it without your assistance!" Carol and K.W. continued to plead with him as pain continued to sear through his head. Carol was walking further out into the water, Max felt as though the beast were getting closer and closer to him, and then all of a sudden, the images were gone, the voices were gone and the pain was gone – in fact, everything around him disappeared as Max fell from consciousness.


	3. No One But Myself

_**A/N Hey, I'm sorry that this update took me so long to get to you! I was really busy this past week and I am afraid that updates will continue to be slow, as NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow and I will still be juggling at least three fanfics while working on my NaNo. Thank you for your impending patience, and thank you for reading! I love you all!

* * *

**_

When Max opened his eyes, his vision was blurry and his ears were filled with the cliché beeping of the hospital room. He struggled to remember what had happened that would have landed him in the hospital, but all that he could recall was a headache and traces of an nightmare. He looked around, frowning as he took in the bleak room.

"Max, my god!" Max jumped slightly as his mother swooped down on him. "What happened to you?" She put her hand on Max's forehead. "How do you feel?"

"I feel fine." Max shrugged. "And I don't know what happened – just had a headache, then I woke up here." Max pulled away from his mother's hand.

"The doctor said that you passed out on the sidewalk." She sighed as she pulled up a chair next to Max's bed. "When the hospital called, we didn't even know you were out – we thought you were in your room."

"Shocking," Max muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Max, something could have happened to you! I mean something did happen to you, but it could have been a lot worse, you can't just sneak out like that!"

"Mom, I'm fine." Max rolled his eyes. "Leave me alone."

"I'll just…I'll just get the doctor then?" She stood up, leaving the room, returning a couple of minutes later, doctor in tow.

"Hello, Max, I'm Dr. Schwartz. I'd like you ask you a few questions." Max just shrugged, so the doctor continued. "Can you tell me what you know about how you got here?" The doctor sat down and Max barely even looked up as his mother back out of the room, leaving the two alone.

"I had a headache, then I was here, now I'm fine." Max shrugged again. "That's it."

"So just a headache?" The doctor asked. "No seizing?"

"Not that I know of…" Max shook his head.

"Alright then, just a headache?"

"Just a headache." Max nodded. "So can I go?"

"Well actually, Max, I'd like to run a test or two. I don't mean to scare you, but headaches that lead to unconsciousness aren't normal and they can occur as symptoms for some pretty serious things."

"Whatever." Max shrugged yet again. He didn't want any sort of tests run on him, but he knew that his mother would force it upon him anyways.

"Good." Dr. Schwartz smiled. "We'll just do a routine CAT scan, make sure that everything's how it should be, and if that comes up normal, we shouldn't need to do anything else."

"Ok." Max nodded. "Fine." CAT scan. He'd heard of that. CAT scans found brain tumors, serious head injuries, things that could be fatally serious or absolutely nothing at all. Thoughts of what could be wrong with him filled his mind, though he chose to mask his fear, hiding behind his monotonous 'whatever' attitude.

***

"Well, Max." Dr. Schwartz smiled at the boy as he entered the room, carrying with him the results of the CAT scan. "It looks like you really are perfectly healthy."

"Ok." Max kept his relief shrouded in nonchalance, shrugging to emphasize how little he cared – or how little he _pretended_ to care. "So, I can go?"

"I don't see why not." The doctor nodded. "Your clothes are on the chair behind me, you can dress while your mother checks out."

"Ok." Max pulled himself into a sitting position.

"Goodbye, Max, I hope never to see you again." Dr. Schwartz joked, laughing at his own cleverness as he vacated the room.

Max got to his feet slowly, taking time putting on his plain white shirt, loose jeans, socks and sneakers. By the time he had pulled his sweatshirt on, he had realized that, while he had his wallet and phone, his iPod was gone. He assumed that the device had fallen onto the sidewalk when he had passed out, and who wouldn't have picked up a stray music playing device? Max let out a deep sigh, knowing that he would have to revert to the use of burnt CDs and his old disc man until he received Christmas money from his grandparents in the mail.

When Max got home, his mother ordered him to bed, and the boy was too overwhelmed by a mixture of confusion and fatigue left over from his 'accident' that he did not have the strength to argue. He went to his room, flopped down on the mattress and crawled beneath the blankets. Max lay on his bed for hours, afraid to try to sleep, afraid to close his eyes, even, though he was not sure why.

The next several days were spent in his room, in bed, sleeping little, despite his knowledge that lack of rest would hinder his healing process. He would stay awake for as long as he could, entirely unsure of what he was dreading should he drift off. During the time he was asleep, he found himself captured in a nearly comatose, dreamless, motionless state, which, aside from its physical aid, soothed the teen little.

He knew that there had been something that had caused him to pass out that night, something strange about the incident that he couldn't quite remember, something important. He knew that there was a large piece to this puzzle that he was missing, and if he could only recall it, he would be able to understand what happened to him, perhaps. Max spent hours of his time in bed pulling at his brain, begging himself to remember any small detail that might bear any impact on what had happened, yet he found that, as he so often was in his life, he grasping at the empty straws of a memory repressed for his own protection. What Max did not know was that when that memory broke free of its confines, it would reign over him once again.


	4. Break So Easily

"You've got good taste." Max closed his locker on Monday morning to see a boy leaning up against the locker next to his. The boy had shaggy brown hair and brown eyes. He wore baggy jeans and a short sleeved plain white shirt, but the casual look was upgraded by the black vest left unbuttoned over his white shirt and the black fedora with the checkered band perched on his head. The boy also had a checkered sweatband around his left wrist and most noticeably of all, a British accent.

"What?" Max frowned as he looked at the boy. He had never seen him before in his life and it was odd that anyone would be talking to him, as he didn't have many friends.

"You've got good taste," the boy repeated, reaching into the pocket of his loose jeans. He pulled out an iPod, holding it out to Max. "You're missing the Mighty Mighty BossTones, though, thought you might want to know that."

"What?" Max grabbed his iPod. "How did you get this?"

"The EMTs left it behind when they took you to the hospital." The boy shrugged.

"Wait…" Max frowned, shoving the music player into his own pocket. "You were there?"

"Fucking yeah I was." The boy nodded. "I mean how did you think called the paramedics? Did you not remember?"

"Remember?"

"You spoke to me! You were writhing around, screaming on the sidewalk, yeah? Then you passed out and I checked you for signs of life, called for an ambulance and you woke up for a couple of minutes, said you had to help Carol, said that 'they' were in trouble…whoever 'they' are." The boy shrugged again, and confusion soared through Max.

"I've never seen you before in my life…" Max gulped.

"I wondered if you'd recall, suppose you didn't, but it's no matter, really." The boy held his hand out to Max. "I'm Liam, just moved here from Liverpool."

"Um…Max." Max hesitantly took the other boy's hand, shaking it loosely.

"Good to meet you, Max." Liam smiled, reaching into his backpack, pulling out a blank CD in a clear plastic holder. "Here you are."

"What's this?" Max looked even more confused as he accepted the CD.

"I told you," Liam stated. "You're missing the Mighty Mighty BossTones."

"Oh." Max transferred the CD to his own backpack. "Um, thank you?"

"You're welcome – I mean, not that it takes long to burn a CD, that's just one. If you like it, though, I've got all of their other ones, I'd be happy to make you copies."

"I meant thanks for, you know, calling the ambulance and returning my iPod, but yeah, the CD's cool too."

"You don't need to thank me for the other two." Liam shook his head. "Just did what anyone should've. I mean I probably shouldn't have gone through the iPod, but it wasn't like it could hurt to see what you listened to."

"Don't worry about it." Max pulled his backpack onto his back. "Well…see ya." He walked off, leaving the boy behind. Max knew that he was being rude, but he didn't care – what else was he supposed to do? A lot of things were still confusing to him and now this Liam guy was saying that he had been talking about Carol. That part of Max's life was over…or at least it was supposed to be.

In class, Max sat in the back as he always did, but instead of doing nothing and staring at the wall, he pulled his pencil out and began to scribble in the margins of his notebook. At first, it was just a tiny doodle, one tree and some earthy ground, but it soon grew into a forest, trees dancing all of the way across the page. Before he knew it, a figure joined the trees, then another and yet another and Max became completely lost in the drawing.

"Oi, chill out there!" As the bell rang, Max jumped as he was jarred from his artwork, and a newly familiar voice filled his ears. "It's just the bell."

"I know that," Max snapped, getting to his feet. He moved to close his notebook, but Liam was faster, snatching it away, eyes scanning the drawing.

"Whoa…" Liam let out a deep breath as he looked at the sketch. "This is really, really good, mate! These monster things, they're well brilliant!"

"Give me that." Max grabbed the notebook, shoving it back into his pack.

"Whoa, no need to get your knickers in a twist!" Liam looked hurt as he backed away from Max a few inches. "I was just admiring your artwork."

"It's not artwork." Max shook his head.

"Then what would you call it? Because to me, that was a fucking amazing drawing. I mean I've just begun to try my hand at drawing, but I'm no good, maybe…maybe you could help me out?"

"If I do, will you stop grabbing at my things?" Max asked. For some reason, this boy was persistent to speak with him, refusing to let it go, and while Max normally would have brushed him off, ignored his presence entirely, he did feel as though he owed Liam something. After all, had Liam not been around, Max would have been laying on the sidewalk unconscious for a lot longer and far worse things could have happened to him.

"Fair deal." Liam nodded. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded up piece of paper. "Take a look at this for me, yeah? I mean I don't know what it is, it just sort of came to me in the middle of class, it's just a doodle, really, but I like the image, I'd like to maybe try and draw it for real, but I'd like some help."

"Alright." Max took the paper and unfolded it. A sharp gasp escaped Max as his eyes fell upon the drawing of a boy in a white wolf's suit, a crown on his head. He dropped the paper to the floor, his hands beginning to shake, followed by the rest of him. Liam looked around the classroom, which had emptied around them, then back at Max.

"You alright?" Liam frowned as Max began to shake more violently. Seconds later, Max emitted a cry of pain and his hands flew to his forehead as he fell to his knees. "Max?" Liam's eyes widened as Max began to scream, pain taking over his body. "Somebody help!" Liam got to his knees, putting his arms around Max as he continued to shout for assistance, trying to steady the seizing boy.

Someone called 9-1-1 as Liam attempted to move Max, who was flailing about like Liam had only ever seen in the movies. It was blatantly clear now that Max was having a seizure and from classes Liam had taken, he knew this wasn't a good thing. He put his hands on Max's head, knowing that this was the most important thing. Once he had the boy semi steady, he rested the boy's head in his own lap, pulling his soft, leather wallet from his pocket. He slid the wallet into Max's mouth, trying to keep him from swallowing his own tongue.

"I've got you, you're going to be ok," he whispered, holding Max as steady as he could, waiting for the paramedics to arrive. After almost a minute, Max stopped shaking, falling unconscious in Liam's arms.


	5. Short Fuse Burning

"Back so soon?" Max woke up to Dr. Schwartz standing over him, clucking his tongue.

"Where is he?" Max asked, sitting up instantly.

"Where is who?" Dr. Schwartz asked.

"Liam," he stated. "British kid with a fedora."

"Oh, the boy who rode in the ambulance with you?" Dr. Schwartz asked. "He's not family, we sent him home."

"Good." Max fell back, relaxing slightly.

"Why?" Dr. Schwartz asked. "He said you just started seizing in class…did he do something to you?"

"Yes, I mean no, I mean…I don't know." Max shrugged. "Can I just go home?"

"No." Dr. Schwartz shook his head. "Max, something is going on with you, and I've run every test that I can think of and nothing's coming up." He bit his lip. "At least nothing physical."'

"What do you mean?" Max asked, frowning at the doctor.

"I mean that sometimes when teenagers start to experience things like this, intense headaches, passing out, it's because they're under a lot of psychological stress, lack of sleep, social anxiety, things like that."

"I'm fine," Max argued.

"You're clearly not," Dr. Schwartz stated. "And before you leave, I'd like you to talk to one of our psychiatrists. You don't have to leave this room, she'll come here to speak with you, if you like, or you can go to her office."

"I don't to talk to anyone," he stated.

"Max, you're 16 years old," the doctor stated. "Your mother agrees with me, she thinks you need help, and since you're still under her control legally, she has asked me to keep you here until you talk to someone."

"That's kidnapping!" Max stated, feeling instantly outraged.

"No, it's not." The doctor shook his head. "If she thinks you're in danger physically or mentally, she has every right to want you to stay here. We'd have to move you to a different wing, of course, but you need to talk to someone or stay here where we can keep an eye on you."

"That's blackmail," Max hissed.

"Maybe so, but it's necessary." The doctor sighed. "It's for your own good, Max."

"Fuck you," Max spat. Dr. Schwartz just looked at Max, one eyebrow raised. "Fine," Max stated, glaring at the doctor. "I'll go see your stupid fucking shrink if it gets me out of this room."

"Good." The doctor smiled at Max. "I'll have a nurse take you down there."

"I can find it by myself," Max snarled.

"I'm afraid that's against hospital policy." He shook his head and disappeared. A nurse came in with a wheel chair a few minutes later, and begrudgingly, Max got in, allowing himself to be taken across the hospital to a small but cozy office.

"Hello." A woman rose, walking over to them. "I'm Dr. Danielle Sparks, you must be Max Cordon."

"Yeah," Max grumbled, getting out of the wheel chair and flopping onto the couch. "That's what they tell me."

"What they tell you?" Danielle asked, sitting in the chair across from him.

"Dude, are you seriously going to analyze everything that I say?" Max asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"That is my job, yes." Danielle nodded. "Perhaps it would be useful for you if I explained what I do?"

"No." Max shook his head. "I don't want to be here, I don't need to be here, my mom's forcing me to do this, and since I know you can't talk to her about these sessions, I'm not gonna say anything."

"You're right, I can't tell her anything you tell me," Danielle said softly. "But that should give you all the more reason to trust me. I hear you've been in the hospital twice for falling unconscious, both accompanied by dreadful headaches and once by a seizure?" she asked. Max just shrugged. "Yet your records show that you are perfectly healthy, so there has to be something going on in your mind that's impacting the way your body is functioning."

"There's nothing wrong with my mind," Max snapped.

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with it," Danielle shook her head. "I merely said that there is something going on, something out of the ordinary."

"Yeah, well your guess is as good as mine." Max shrugged.

"So there's nothing that you see as a reason for any of this?" Danielle asked. "Nothing that's changed in your life recently?"

"Nope. I'm fine." Max shrugged.

"But you've been to therapy before," she stated.

"I was like, a kid then." Max rolled his eyes. His mother had taken him and his sister to grief counseling when his father had died, and again to family counseling after she got remarried. "It was nothing, just family bullshit."

"Your father dying and your mother remarrying is never bullshit." Danielle shook her head. "I know that you don't believe that."

"You don't know anything about me," Max stated. "The things that you have written down in your file, that's not who I am, that's who they say I am."

"When you say they, who are you talking about?" Danielle asked.

"My mother, my stepfather, Dr. Schwartz, the other shrinks, who the fuck did you think I was talking about?" he asked.

"Sometimes people think that there are people out to get them, sometimes people say "they" as a way of referring to someone they don't know but feel is watching them or trying to hurt them."

"I'm not a fucking head case," Max declared. "I'm not crazy and I'm not paranoid, no one's following me, no one's out to get me, my mom just wants me to be someone I'm not, and until I turn into that person, she's gonna send me to you."

"So you feel anger and resentment towards your mother?" Danielle asked.

"Fuck you," Max stated, standing up. "I don't need this bullshit."

"Max, I'm just trying to help you," Danielle stated, getting to her feet as well. "Please, you have a full hour, I'd like for you to stay for that entire time, if you don't, I'm afraid your agreement with your mother will not be honored."

"So you're in on the blackmail too?" Max asked, turning around and slumping back down on the couch. "Fine, I'll sit here and wait." He looked at the clock.

"While you wait, will you tell me how you felt right before you passed out both today and last week?"

"No," Max stated.

"Will you tell me about this Liam boy? Dr. Schwartz wrote that you said you didn't know if he had done something to you, can you explain that for me?"

"No," Max said again.

"Are you going to talk to me at all?" Danielle asked.

"No." Max shook his head.

"Fine." Danielle nodded, setting her notepad aside. "Then we can just sit here for the next 37 minutes."

"Fine by me," Max snapped. He would rather sit and wait this out than talk about anything with this person. She wouldn't understand him, hell, if he told her what had really been happening with him, she'd probably have him locked up in some asylum faster than you could bat an eyelash. If this shrink thought that he was going to cave in and speak, she was sadly mistaken. The hour passed and Max said nothing else.

"Alright, that's the hour," Danielle stated finally, getting to her feet and opening the door for Max, who stood, heading for it swiftly. "I'll see you next week?" she asked.

"What?" Max shook his head. "Hell no."

"I'm afraid that's part of the deal, Max." Max looked up to see his mother.

"What?" Max frowned. "No, mom!"

"Something's going on with you, Max," she whispered. "And if you won't go see someone about it, I'm going to have to insist you go to a treatment center."

"What the fuck?" Max frowned. "What are you saying."

"I'm saying you need help."

"No." He shook his head. "You're saying it's Dr. Interrogation or it's an insane asylum." He frowned as he stared at his mother. "You think I'm crazy, don't you."

"Max…"

"Don't you?" Max shouted.

"Max, I don't know what to think anymore," she said with a sigh. "You don't talk to me, you don't have any friends to talk to, and you need to talk to someone, so what's it going to be?" she asked. "Dr. Sparks or a treatment center?"

"Dr. Sparks," Max hissed, knowing that he'd rather spend an hour in silence every week than time in a treatment center being watched nonstop.

"Good." His mother nodded. "Come on, let's get you home." Max didn't say anything, he just followed his mother to the car, sitting in the front seat, his head resting against the window. When they got back home, his mother parked the car, but didn't get out. "Look, Max, I know that you're mad at me, but I just want what's best for you…"

"Yeah, right." Max scoffed, stepping out of the car and grabbing his backpack.

"Max, I'm serious," his mother said softly. "I love you."

"Yeah?" Max shrugged. "Well that's too bad, because I hate you." He entered the house and ran up to his room, slamming the door shut and locking it. He lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. What the hell was happening to him? Why did he keep passing out? More importantly, who the hell was this Liam guy and why had he drawn a picture of Max in his wolf suit?

* * *

**_A/N Okay, so I have no idea if anyone is still reading this, but I had an urge to work on it again after like, about a year, so here goes...hopefully I'll finish it this time around. Let me know what you think - sorry if this isn't the way you saw things going with Max, he's kind of a wildcard._**


	6. Why Am I Falling Apart?

Max's mother kept him home from school for the next few days, deciding that he wasn't strong enough physically or mentally to be in a crowded place right now. He didn't really like being at home, but it beat being at school, and he just stayed in his room the whole time listening to music and reading. It had been three days since he had left the hospital, and he had been having nightmares and headaches every day and night since. He didn't tell his mother, though, because he knew that if he did, she would just take him in for more testing, and that was the last thing that he needed right now.

"Max?" his mother knocked on the door, and he instantly shoved the lighter that he had been playing with under his pillow. "Max, honey, there's someone here to see you, says he's a friend of yours from school."

"I don't have any friends," Max stated, but it was too late, his mother had already opened the door, showing Liam inside. Max's eyes widened as the boy entered his room, and he was going to ask his mom to show Liam out, but she left before he got the chance.

"Hey." Liam leaned against the wall, giving Max his space.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Max spat.

"I came to see if you were alright…" Liam frowned. "You had a seizure in class, they wouldn't tell me anything at the hospital, so I thought I'd come by and see for myself if everything was alright."

"Is this some sick game to you?" Max hissed, standing up and walking over to Liam.

"Max, what are you talking about?" Liam backed away slightly, looking confused.

"Coming here? Why would you think that was alright with me? Why would you tell my mother that we were friends? We're not friends." Max shook his head, glaring at Liam.

"Look, I just thought…" he bit his lip.

"Just thought what?" Max asked. "That it'd be fun to fuck with me? I know you're hiding something from me, Liam, I just don't know what it is."

"Max, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about!" Liam's eyes widened with fear, and he backed up even more.

"Oh don't play naïve with me," Max snarled. "You've been around me both times I've passed out – are you trying to tell me that was a coincidence? That you just happened to be there both times I've had these weird attacks or episodes or whatever the hell they are?" Max shook his head, frowning at the boy. "Not a chance in hell."

"Max, I don't know what you're on about, I wasn't there when you passed out the first time, I came across you after the fact!" Liam was backed up against the far wall, but Max was still moving forwards. "Max, you look crazy right now!"

"Is that what you want people to think?" Max asked. "That I'm crazy? Did _he_ put you up to this?"

"He who, Max?" Liam asked. "I have NO idea what you're going on about! Really, I don't!"

"Jacob," Max stated. "My stepfather, did he put you up to this? I know he'd love to see me end up in an institution, then he wouldn't have to fucking deal with me."

"I've never met your stepfather, Max," Liam stated. "I'm not trying to hurt you, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"The picture," Max hissed. "The picture you drew in art class today, what the hell, man?"

"What do you mean?" Liam asked.

"Why did you draw that?"

"I don't know, I told you! The idea just came to me, I thought it was kind of cute, you know, a little kid in a wolf suit with a crown?"

"I don't think it's cute at all," Max hissed. "I think it makes you a fucking stalker."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Liam asked, his eyes growing even wider.

"You've been stalking me, haven't you?" Max accused, jabbing a finger into Liam's chest. "Why? I want to know why."

"Max, I have NO idea what you're talking about, how many times do I have to say it?" Liam asked, his voice shaking with fear. Max looked insane to him and, in this moment, a little on the dangerous side. "Max, I'm not stalking you, why would you say that?" he frowned.

"Like you don't know," Max scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"I honestly don't!" Liam stated, a lump rising in his throat.

"Oh yeah?" Max turned away from Liam and went through his closet, digging through it for several minutes before he produced the wolf suit. It was ratty and dirty, but it was very clear that it was the one from the picture.

"Oh." Liam frowned. "Well I must have seen it on some kid somewhere or something." Liam shrugged. "You don't need to freak out, I'm sure a lot of kids have the same suit hell, maybe I had one when I was younger and I don't remember it."

"No." Max shook his head, tossing the suit aside. "No, you didn't, and you didn't see it on anyone else because my mom made that for me. We didn't buy it some store where there were a hundred other costumes just like it, she made it for me, it's one of a kind. The kid you drew in class, that kid was me, now I'm just really, really curious as to how you knew about that if you've just moved here from Liverpool."

"Max, I swear to god I don't know," Liam stated, his eyes widening as Max spoke.

"Do you believe in god?"

"Well, no…" Liam bit his lip.

"Then what weight does swearing to him have?"

"Max, I promise you, I have no idea how I got that image, I just moved here, I had no idea that was you in the suit, that you even had that suit. I told you it just came to me and it did."

"How can I believe that?" Max asked. "It's too much of a fucking coincidence to be true.

"Max, trust me."

"Why should I? I don't know you!"

"You know what? Fine." Liam shook his head, heading for the door. "I just came by to see if you were okay, to see if you liked the Bosstones CD, but clearly, you're a head case just like everyone's saying. I won't be back." Liam opened the door and walked out, slamming it behind him. Max fell back onto his bed, breathing heavily. What the hell was happening? What the hell was going on? Did Liam really not know where that image came from? And even if he had stalked him, how would he have known about the crown.

"Maxwell Cordon, what the HELL just happened?" his mother stormed into the room. "That boy, your _friend_ just left the house in tears!"

"I told you, mom," Max stated, lying down on the bed. "I don't have any friends."

* * *

_**A/N So yeah, felt like working on this some more - I'm sick, so it's probably not very high quality, not that it ever is. :P Just curious to see if anyone's reading, what do you guys think of Max? Of Liam? Do you like them? I know Max is a bit of a basket case right now, but I dunno...I kind of like it, I want to know what you all think!**_


	7. Everything Went Numb

"So." Danielle sat in the chair across from Max. "Your mother told me that a friend came to visit you and you sent him out of the house in tears."

"He wasn't my friend," Max stated, rolling his eyes. Of course his mother would have mentioned the incident to his fucking shrink.

"Well regardless of that, she said that you made him cry."

"Yeah, so?" Max shrugged.

"Why did you do that?" She asked.

"Look, I didn't mean to make him cry, okay? It's not my fault he's really sensitive or whatever! He came over to my house, I didn't want him there, so I told him to leave and he got upset. He's a transfer kid, so he's like, trying to make friends or something, I guess." He shrugged.

"Max, I'm a trained psychiatrist," Danielle stated. "I can tell when people are lying to me."

"Okay, so maybe I just don't want to tell you." Max sighed. He really didn't understand why he had to be here and do this every week. He didn't want to talk to this woman and he wasn't going to.

"Look, Max, if you don't start talking to me, your family is going to have to take further action. A lot of teenagers go through rebellious phases like this, especially when one of their parents remarries, but from what I've heard, you're out of control in both your actions and your health. There is help out there for you, but you have to be willing to accept it."

"I don't need help," Max stated.

"Yes, you do." Danielle looked at Max. "What you're going through, a lot of people go through it. If you open up about it, the things that are bothering you, I can help stop them."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Max shook his head. "No one else is going through this shit, you don't know what you're talking about at all, do you? I knew psychiatry was bullshit, but I didn't realize that it was full of little fucking liars."

"Max, please calm down." She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I can't understand your unique situation if you don't explain it to me. From what I can see, you're just really angry, but if there's more to it, Max, I need to know so that I can help you."

"Why would you want to help me?" Max asked. "Because you make like 200 bucks an hour off of getting me to talk? Because it'll help make you look good at your next head shrinking convention? Huh?" He tilted his head to the side. "I know that it's not because you care about me."

"How do you know that?" Danielle asked, maintaining her calm, smooth voice.

"How do I know? Are you serious?" Max stood up, throwing his hands in the air. "You don't know me!" he shouted. "You don't know me at all, and you can't fucking care about someone that you don't know!"

"But I'm trying to get to know you, you're shutting me out," Danielle countered. "I would really like to get to know you, Max, but before I can do that, you have to decide that you want to let me get to know you."

"Why would you want to get to know me?" Max challenged. "It's because you're paid for this! You're paid to get me to spill my guts to you so that you can put it in a file and scribble down some medication name on a piece of paper, something that will get me high enough to forget about the shit that's happening! I know that you don't care about me, and you won't care about me, even if you _do _get to know me – in fact, you have a better chance of caring about me before you get to know me," he shouted. "No one fucking cares about me and especially not people who have gotten to know me! Just ask my sister, my mom, hell, my stepdad is a prime example. He wants me out of the house, he thinks I'm a danger to their perfect fucking family! Ask them, see if they care at _all _about me."

"Max, if they didn't care about you, you wouldn't be here." Danielle shook her head. "Your mother wouldn't insist that you see someone, that you get help, if she didn't love you."

"No, you're wrong." Max shook his head. "She's got me here, she's doing this because she thinks that if she does, people will stop fucking talking about what a lunatic the Cordon boy is, about what an emo kid he is. She wants a popular son with good grades and a fucking smile on his face, a son who's happy to have some deadbeat taking his father's place, and when she found out that wasn't me, she sent me here." He sat back down on the couch, folding his arms across his chest.

"Wow." Danielle made notes quickly. "How do you feel right now?" She asked, looking up at Max.

"I don't know." Max shrugged. He felt worn out and his voice felt sore, but having finally said all of those things out loud, it kind of actually made him feel a little bit better, though he knew that he wasn't going to admit it. "Tired, mostly," he lied.

"Okay." Danielle nodded. "You can be done for today if you want to be," she said softly.

"But the hour's not up," Max stated.

"You can go early. If you want to stay and talk, of course you're welcome to, but if you want, you can go home now."

"Well fuck that." Max stood up, grabbing his hoodie and iPod, heading out of the door. He wasn't aware of just how much he had opened up to his therapist, but he was aware of the fact that he felt a little better, a little calmer. Granted, he didn't trust Danielle farther than he could throw her, but she had gotten him angry enough to tell the truth, and that was something. It scared him, but at the same time, relieved him.

He got on the bus and grabbed one of the rails, not caring that there was no place to sit. He was about halfway home before a splitting pain arose in his head. He cried out, pressing his hand to his forehead, but it did no good. A second latter, another stabbing pain shot through his head and collapsed to the ground, seizing.

"Max…" he heard far off voices talking to him – Carol and KW. "Max, we need you…"

"No, no you don't!" Max shouted as writhed on the ground. "Leave me alone! You don't need me! Leave me alone, just let me be!"

"Max, only you can save us!" Alexander's voice said. The pain in his head seemed to worsen, and that, combined with the seizing became too much for him. He shrieked in pain, gripping at his head for a couple of minutes, trying to block the voices before, for the third time, he fell unconscious.

* * *

_**A/N I know that you guys are probably getting tired of this back and forth between anger and spasms, but don't worry, the Wild Things and the major plot ARE coming up soon! :)**_


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